


Where Are The Clowns?

by GrumpyQueer



Category: Joker (2019)
Genre: Arkham Asylum, Awkwardness, Blood and Violence, Developing Relationship, F/M, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Gotham City - Freeform, Gotham City is Terrible, M/M, Minor Violence, Other, POV Multiple, Shyness, Slow Burn, Stalking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:55:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22791352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrumpyQueer/pseuds/GrumpyQueer
Summary: Isnt it rich?An encounter on the train with a man dressed as a clown; what could it lead to?
Relationships: Arthur Fleck & Joker (DCU), Arthur Fleck/You, Joker/You
Comments: 7
Kudos: 42





	1. Isnt It Rich?

It was a dark, dull morning in Gotham City. The rain throwing itself against the windows of the dodgy cars that wizzed by, the smell of smoke, alcohol and pollution in the air. This place is what you called home. 

You were sat on the train, body jolting to the movement. It was silent except the screetching and whirling of the train itself. People were sat around you. You wondered what they do in their life. A young woman in a smart-ish suit was sat across from you. She seemed nervous. Maybe an interview? Thats lucky if she got one, its difficult to get a job in this rundown city. Another woman sat across from you too. An older woman, in a long blue dress with a long beige cardigan on top. Her hair was neatly tied up in a low ponytail. She looked tired. She sighed as she held her purse closer to her chest. You look to your right and see a man. Staring at his hands, wringing them while his knee shakes violently. His head is hung low, long brown curls hiding his face. You can sort of make out his face. Skin caked in clown makeup. Sunken eyes from tiredness. A bag with a wig laying atop, resting beside him. The wrinkles on his face telling a story that you were intruiged to know. But you didnt know him. You can't trust anyone in this fucking city. You knew that. So, instead, you just sat in your seat, sipping your coffee and staring at nothing imparticular. A guy, around mid 30s sits next to you. You focus on a spot on the wall behind the man viciously shaking his knee. It suddenly becomes more interesting as the guy starts harrasing the older woman. The train car shudders signalling the next stop. The young woman rushes off the train, probably to get to her interview on time. Sighing you turn back to look over at the older woman, who has turned her attention to the floor, ignoring the man next to you cat-calling and grossly trying to 'chat her up'. She abruptly stands and hurries on to the next carridge, leaving you alone with these 2 men. The man, who announced himself as Todd, casually places his arm around your shoulders. "What about you sweetheart? Youre not gonna run away are you? You want me." He slurrs confidently into your ear. The odor of booze and filth fills your nostrils. You scoff at his words. "The only thing I want you to do is have a mint. Or shower." You growl back, snatching yourself from his grasp. A sudden pained laugh fills your ears. Both yours and Todds head whipped round in the direction of the sound. The man from earlier. The poor nervous man. Todd stands, pulling his arm from your shoulders, a wicked grin splitting his chapped lips. "Isnt it rich?" He tauntingly sings. The clown man still laughing, choking and clutching his throat. Todd advances towards him, singing 'Send In The Clowns' by Frank Sinartra. You are not frightened of the man himself, you are merely concerned over both your safety. He suddenly grabs the mans shoulders and shakes him violently. "Somethin funny to you clown" he spits. The clown continues to laugh, his own fingers digging into the skin around his neck. Todd grabs the clowns bag when he realises he wont be getting a response. You stand abruptly, there may be assholes in this shitty city but doesnt mean you are just going to stand back and watch. "Hey." Both of the men turn to look at you. The clown sobbing lightly as the pained laughter rattles through him. "Leave him alone." You spit. The train cars rattle and bump, making you sway slightly and lose your balance, hitting the carradges floor knees first. Todd suddenly laughs at your attempt of being brave. "What are you gonna do sweetheart? Look at you, might as well take you when youre already prepared for me." He slurrs, dropping the bag and advancing towards you once again, gesturing to your vunerable position. Catching what he was implying to, your blood runs cold as you try and scramble to your feet. But Todd was quick to push you back to your knees, standing on your hands. Wincing and crying out as his weight pops and cracks your knuckles and bones in your hand. You look over at the clown, his laughter still sending tremours through his body. But looking over at you in concern and helplessness. Todds hand grabs your jaw and turns your head to face him. He reeks of piss and sweat too. You gag as he slightly leans down to your level. "Nawh, you wanna let him watch, I can do that sweetheart, you like people watching?" He murmurs to himself, his other hand reaching to the front of his trousers. Youre frozen to the spot from fear, tears welling in your eyes. You shut them tight, tears spilling from them, wishing this was only a nightmare.  
Next thing you know, your ears are ringing and the contact on your face and hands are gone. A scream rips through Todds throat as he stumbles backwards, clutching his shoulder. A look of pure fear and pain graces his features. Another shot rings through the air as you see Todd hit the ground. The lights over head flickering obsuring your vision.  
The train car stops, and youre still frozen. You see Todd dissappear through the rusted doors of the train car. You turn to see if the clown man was okay to find him gone too. That surely couldnt have been him to do that. Could it?  
You scramble to get your belongings to find your coffee had been spilt in the process of everything. That wasnt important right now. You throw yourself through the automatic doors that were slowly groaning shut and the train groans and rattles away down the track. You could faintly hear more gunshots. A scream. Then silence. 3 more gunshots rattled the air and you ran towards the sound. 

There stood the clown man. Makeup running from sweat, chest heaving and the gun still pointing at the unmoving body that was Todd. His hand shaking. You stop and watch, panting heavily from running and from addrenaline. He turns towards you. The painted smile does little to hide his fear. You both just stand there. On the dirty, polluted platform of the train station. Staring at one another.

Isnt it rich?


	2. Are We A Pair?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You want to thank the clown for saving you, but can you keep up?

Gotham was always full of noise. Police sirens, people screaming and all sorts. But between yourself the clown and the dead body, there was silence. Even through the pouring rain.  
A deadly silence.  
The only noise being both your panting breaths. The body lay between you both, a dark liquid slowly staining the pavement on the station platform. It mixing with the rain water, the 2 liquids dancing and swirling as they come into contact. You stare at the clown not knowing what to say. His body rattling and shaking. From the cold? Addrenaline? Fear? ...Pride? He just saved you from a creep. Not many people would do that around here. Finally catching your breath, you slowly make your way towards the clown. It was quite weird seeing the scene before you, without the context it would seem quite sinister.  
A deathy skinny man with running clown makeup, holding a gun to a slowly bleeding out body.  
But to you he was your saviour.  
Gothams inhabitants were selfish, thinking about themselves and only themselves. If someone was murdered next to them on the pavement they wouldnt bat an eye, they would only worry about being delayed to get to work on time. Selfish bastards.  
You advance towards the clown, ready to show your gratitude to the man. But before you could even open your mouth the man darts up the wet concrete steps of the platform. You blink. Without a second glance you run after him. For fragile looking man he sure is quick. 

You ran after him for what felt like hours. Your muscles screaming with every sharp turn and flex of body. Your body slowed as the man still ran on ahead of you. You felt light headed. Your vision swimming and your body felt numb. Pins and needle like. You dropped to your knees on the polluted pavement, not caring how the sharp stone pierced your knees. Your vision blurred, your mouth dry. You can feel your heart hammering in your chest. The strong thumping against your ribs echoing in your head. Your hands slap onto the concrete, blood streaming from the open grazes it creates.  
You guess this is what you get for not eating properly and running.  
Before your body hits the ground you heave out a "w-wait" before slumping on the wet concrete. The rain still pouring, it flowing in the ridges of the concrete like a tiny river. Your vision turns into dots and the darkness comes fading in. Your body becomes cold as you lay there, closing your eyes.

You didnt even notice the clown come back. Standing over you. Watching. 

You had noticed him.

Are we a pair?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Sorry this chapter is short!! Hope you enjoy!


	3. Me Here At Last On The Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You awake in unfamiliar circumstances.

You awoke in an unfamilar apartment. You were laying on a dusty rustic couch, a small blanket draped over your form. Your head throbbed and your legs ached. You turned your head to review your surroundings.  
A bleak apartment. Dulls walls encompased a dull atmosphere. But other than that it seemed quite cozy. Old fashioned decor, the smell of cigarettes and age was somewhat pleasant. Especially compared to the smog that constantly seemed to surround Gotham. Sitting up quickly, this is not a place you know. Your vision swimming slightly, you clutch your head with a groan.

Shuffling movement from a distant room goes unknown to you as your saviour reveals himself.

~Arthurs POV~

I pace back and forth in my room. So many emotions coursing through me. I shot a man. And it felt....good. Like I thought it would bother me, like you see in films... but it hasnt. An air of confidence flows through my veins. 

Is this what it feels to be alive? 

My thoughts are cut off when I hear a groan from the other room. Fear striking through my bones, I brought them home! Shit! What do I do?? What the fuck do I do??? 

My hands are shaking, wringing them together, a nervous tick of mine. I take a deep breath in and hold on to it, to calm my pounding heart. Slowly I shuffle to the doorway to face them. It was now or never. 

~Readers POV~ 

Still clutching your head, you feel drunk. Your vision spinning, not being able to focus on anything, stomach churning. It was nausiating. Deep breaths calm you slightly, but the addrenaline of the thought of being kidnapped was pumping through your veins. You cant really remember what happened, its all a blurr, but the fact that youre in unfamiliar surroundings. Nope. Pure fear and addrenaline. You wanted to stand and run as fast as you could out of there, but with your current state you could barely function. You lift your head slowly to not feel as sick, but you catch the figure of a shadow in the doorway. You freeze. You watch him slowly step out of the shadows. Suddenly the memories of last night come flooding back to you. He had saved you. And you must've passed out trying to catch him. He had saved your life.

~Arthurs POV~

I stepped out a bit more to see if they could see me. As soon as I did though, they had frozen stiff like they were afraid of me. They remember me killing a man. They're gonna run for it and tell everyone that I'm a murderer. My heart beat wracks my ribcage, making my whole body pulse to the beat. With quick but shakey hands, I pat down my body to find my old pack of cigerettes. Retrieving the beaten up box from my pant pocket, I pluck one out of the box and spark up the lighter. My hands vigorously shaking as I do so. Taking a deep inhale, I can feel my throat close up and tense, my condition threatening the ability to calm down. Choking on the smoke, coughing wracks my intire being as laughter pushes its way through. A hand clasping over my mouth, my other hand grasping the door frame as I stumble towards it. Why this? Why now??  
As my condition threatens to worsen again I go to retreat into my room. That is until I feel a warm hand wrap around my wrist. 

~Readers POV~

As I watch the shadows slowly reveal his face, I am struck with this feeling of awe and greatfulness. He had brought me back here and patched me up. I watched him shakily pat himself down to find something. Pulling out a worn cigerette packet and lighter, bringing one to his lips and sparking it with furiously shakey hands. He shakily inhaled the smoke with a practised concentration, meeting my gaze he coughs and splutters, the smoke exiting his mouth in plumes. He braces himself on the doorframe, his shoulders hunched as they heave and shake. I stand, he helped me, its my turn to help him. I noticed he had some form of condition from the train, but it didnt scare me or make me feel disgusted like most people seemed to react to him. Its not his fault, he's physically in pain. It hurts him. I take a few steps forward as he clutches his throat and mouth, he turns suddenly towards the other room. I grasp his wrist without even thinking. I dont know him but I feel comfortable with him. His head darts suddenly towards me. I flinch at the sudden movement. His eyes are wide, darting between mine and my hand on his wrist. Violent laughter wracks his entire being, stifling it as best as he can. I can feel his frail bones on his wrist rattle as he splutters, the tight muscles tensing and tightening with each forced laugh. 

I just want to hold him. 

But he seems so fragile.

~Arthurs POV~ 

I feel an unfamiliar warmth wrap around my wrist. Its strange but not unpleasant. But not comfortable. Freezing is what I do. I look between them holding my wrist and their beautiful (e/c) eyes. I would love to stare at them and get lost in them. So I do. Laughter still shaking my body, but I get lost in their gaze. Watching me softly. Eyelashes fluttering with each blink. I can see their pupils dilate with each blink, getting used to the light around us. The slight twinkle of light seems to show the whole universe. I can see my reflection in their eyes but I dont focus on that. I stare more and without even realising it, I'm not laughing anymore. The tenseness burning my throat is eased, my body has stopped shaking. Im grounded. Im calm.  
Im lost in the galaxy in their eyes.

Me here at last on the ground.


	4. You In Mid Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You talk to the man that saved your life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long for me to update! Hope you are enjoying it so far! Leave a comment if you'd like! Hope you're all safe and well!

~Arthurs POV~

Smitten is the word I'm sure for what I feel at this moment. The first person who has seen me. Touched me. And is holding me. My heart is hammering against my ribcage, not from my condition anymore. But from excitement? Nerves? All of it. Their eyes glint in the dim light from the apartment. I'm starstruck. Their hair looking soft and fluffy to the touch. I want to cast my fingers through it. Feel the heat that radiates through their body. Stop. 

~Readers POV~

I can see his eyes flit across my face. Drinking me in. Maybe grabbing him was a bad idea. So, I slowly release my hold on his wrist, placing my arm to wrap around my torso instead. Holding myself for comfort. "Thank you" I say looking into his bright but tired eyes. 

~Arthurs POV~ 

I can feel their grip on my wrist slowly relax but I don't want them to let go. But I let them. They wrap their arms around themselves, holding. They look small and vunerable, their arms being the only shield. They are looking at me, staring into my soul. Everytime our eyes meet, I feel like time stops. They're as beautiful as an angel. A small smile formed on their lips. I can't help but stare. Their lips part as they say something, but it's all in slow motion. I don't quite catch what they say. They said something you idiot, answer!! I snap out of the daze I was in and the nerves hit me full swing. "Um-m sorry what did you say?" was my response. They giggled lightly and it was music to my ears. They think I'm funny! I could listen to it all day. I can feel my heart yearn for them. That's crazy isn't it? I feel like I'm flying. Is this this start of something? 

~Readers POV~

I giggle. I can feel his gaze burning through my skin. Its not totally uncomfortable. He had saved me. "I said thank you. For saving me back there and for bringing me here and patching me up." Bringing my gaze back to the floor, why do I feel embarrased? "Not many people in Gotham would do that for a complete stranger." I look up to meet his eyes. His shining bright eyes. It's like he's staring into my soul. "He was awful thinking he could do something like that." His expression stern and intimidating, I had to hold back a shiver. "Still though, thank you" he smiles sheepishly, his gaze drifting to the floor then back to me. There's something behind his eyes that I can't seem to pin point. I clear my throat lightly, feeling pink dust my cheeks. "I should get going, but thank you again Mr...?" "My name is Arthur. Arthur Fleck" he smiles. I bring my hand up to his to shake, "(Y/N) (L/N)" I smile back. He tentitively brings his hand up to mine to shake. His hands are thin and boney, but hold a powerful warmth. We release the hold that seems to linger as I turn to walk to the door. Looking back he seems in a trance then smiles brightly when meeting my eyes. Smiling once more at him, I let myself out the door and begin my journey home.

You in mid air.


	5. Send In The Clowns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You go about your day, days after the incident on the train, you can’t get him off your mind. Will you see him again? Who knows? But that clown looks familiar…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry for how late this chapter is! The world at the moment is a crazy place so I hope I can provide that escape from the real world for you! I hope you’re all safe and well and that you enjoy this chapter! I’ll hopefully be updating this regularly!

The incident on the train was days ago, but you couldn’t get Arthur out of your head. The man that saved your life. You couldn’t describe it. You felt like you owed everything to him. You were a nobody, another body in the sea of people but he had seen you. Noticed. _Saved you._ No one would do that in this awful city. There was something about him that left you wanting more.

After that night you came back to your shitty apartment and slept, calling in sick for work the next day. You didn’t want to go to work in the state you were. You needed to process what happened and also allow the cuts, scrapes and bruises to ease up. Even though you’d say you didn’t care what people thought, your boss would have some assumptions that you couldn’t deal with right now. And you could catch anything from that rundown café with your open wounds.

But here you were, serving Gotham’s inhabitants that were awful. Very rarely do you get a customer who smiles or just common courtesy. When you do, it makes your day and you shine that bit brighter. But 99% of the time it’s hell. Actual hell.

The clock ticks in the nearing on empty café. The tocks echoing off the dingy dirty tiles, reminding you just how slow time goes when you’re here. It’s obnoxious and mocking. An older man sits at one of the booths, grumbling to himself as he reads his newspaper. From the counter, you see the man, a dark silhouette, steam rising from his fresh cup of coffee, dancing in the air, his glasses sit low on his nose as he intensely reads. The crinkle of the paper a crisp contrast to the clock. It seems time stood still, a brief moment of calm. A routine. An aesthetic.

A hand slams down on the counter, shocking you from your peace. It was your boss. _Fucking great._ “You done staring at old men or you gonna do your job?” His voice rasps at you, brown eyes glaring. His skin flaky and dirty. The man was awful, finding a way to get what he wants for his own benefit. He disgusts you to the pit of your stomach. There was rarely people that worked here because of how awful he really was. You didn’t want to know what he did, but you can make a horrifying guess. He grips your apron and pulls you close, uncomfortably close. Close enough that you can smell the rotting of his mouth framed by yellowish brown teeth. You controllably hold back a gag. “Dan needs help down back, now go before I find you something else to keep you busy.” He grins, licking his crusted lips. Your skin pales, gulping and nodding profusely, turning on your heels and retreat to the kitchen to help Dan. You fucking hate working here. It pays the bills but from what you put up with, it feels like it’s not worth it.

Dan was nice enough. Mummy and Daddy had money and provided for him, until they found out his substance abuse then promptly kicked him to the streets. You couldn’t relate to him on any level, but he was always the one to help you out when a customer was being particularly shitty. So it is what it is. He did have a tone of spoilt brat trying to hold on to whatever privilege he had left which (spoiler alert) was none at all. He also had a tendency of getting violent if someone so much breathed the wrong way around him, so you hope you never have to see that side of him.

After helping Dan sort out the stock your already crappy day was made worse. Not only did you slip on the wet tiles outside creating an ugly, bloody graze. But after that you bumped your head putting the stock away giving you a headache, Dan accidentally elbowed you in the face leaving a nasty bruise on your eye and THEN a shelf broke ruining all your hard work. So you were absolutely done with today. You just wanted to get home, have a semi-warm bath and get to sleep.

Dan said he would sort it so you could get home. He felt terrible for what happened so he thought the least he could do was let you go first and he would clean up. It made you smile weakly but you thanked him as you ran out of the dirty café, leaving behind you.

The walk to the train was as dull as always. People bumping into you, not even sparing you a glance or a ‘sorry’. It was like you were invisible. Getting pushed around like you were in a pinball machine. Even with a bloody leg and a bruised face, no-one would even bat an eyelid. No-one would ask if you were okay. They didn’t know you. It’s not their business. They don’t want to get involved.

That’s fucking life.

Doesn’t help that since the murder that you witnessed, the news have been blowing up at the _‘tragedy’_ caused by a clown. It wasn’t a fucking tragedy! That man was gonna..

Finally on the train, you slump in your seat, head in your hands and take a deep breath. The train rumbles to life as your body leans towards it’s movements. Your hands slide from your face as you look around the carriage. Every time you take the train now you think of him. Arthur. A small smile spreads on your face. You finally had a friend. Someone who understood. Someone you could relate to. You wonder when you’ll see him again.

You snap out of your thoughts to find the train grumbling to a halt. The lights overhead flicker violently as the train groans and struggles to open the doors. For a moment you think you’re alone, until a faint click clack of shoes on concrete makes you look up. A green wig blurs past the window and you stand. Is that him? You rush to the doors to stop them from closing. Just enough for the man to tumble through, but enough for his bag to get stuck slightly in the doors. He pants heavily, hunched over to catch his breath. It’s him. He pulls at his bags which are stuck in the door, it pulls a giggle from you.

~Arthurs POV~

I didn’t follow (Y/N) all day today. I had work. But I knew that we took the same train. I love my job but the chance to see their face again and hear their voice, got me running out of the door as soon as I could. I had to see them again. I had to know if this wasn't just another hallucination. 

My feet guided me towards the station like muscle memory. I could finally feel what it’s like to have my heart beat. I’m alive. I’m not invisible. While I was too busy drawing the lines of their face in my head, I had ran head first into a man carrying boxes. We both fell with a clatter, the boxes crushed and the contents spilled to the floor. I scrambled to grab my belongings, standing quickly. The man has already stood and yelled a “Hey watch where you’re going freak!” I could already feel the tightness in my throat, laughter threatening to spill. But before I could even think, a fist collided with my cheek and nose. Blood poured from my nostrils, that was the final straw. I snapped, my laughter cut the silence like a knife. “What the fuck is funny clown? Get the fuck out of here before I call the cops!” I scoff as I stagger away. _What are the police going to do?_ They’d step right over me. My mind takes me where I was going, my head pounding from the hit, blood staining my last good shirt for Carnival but it doesn’t bother me. I just had to see them. I was determined.

I get to the station and see the trains doors slowly closing. _Shit_. I run again, the closest carriage seemed to have no one aboard. I’d simply have to walk through to find them. Still running and falling through the doors, I’m finally aboard. I hunch over attempting to catch my breath, I gurgle slightly from the blood in my mouth, a chuckle escapes my throat but not a pained one. I slowly stand, my eyes closed trying to pull my bag only to find part of it stuck in the doors. A light chuckle makes my eyes snap open and turn my head to make eye contact with the source. It was you. A black eye, bloody legs, bruised and stained clothes. You smiled at me. And I smiled back. We are the same. It was like looking in a fucked up mirror. But my, was it beautiful.

Send In The Clowns.


	6. Isn't It Bliss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are alive aren't we? Dance with me

As we both stare at each other, it’s a mirror. Same type of people but slightly different circumstances. Both stained with blood, bruised and souls almost crushed by the world. But here you both were, always believing you were alone. Fate can be cruel, but in this case it was an answered prayer.

“You look a mess.” You said, smirking lightly hoping he’d see the brightness and humorous side of it. He smirked back at you, eyes flickering up and down your form, you hold back the shiver that the action gave you, his arm gesturing to you. “So do you.” He smiled, bloody teeth greeted you. But you didn’t mind it. What else did you expect? The man had rivers pouring from his nostrils. You nodded towards the seats, a silent request to sit. He yanked his bag from the doors and gestured for you to lead the way. As you sat in respected seats, you placed your hands in your lap, eyes glancing at him. His face held a small smile, his green eyes hold a gentleness that you would love to explore. But you also feel a darkness, a darkness that lurks in the shadows. It intrigues you. Pulls you in. From lust and mystery. You want to see the man for everything he is. The odd cold but slight warmth from his hands bring you out of your thoughts. His hands are placed upon yours, scooping them up to hold them in his own. Blush rises to your cheeks, as your eyes flit between his face and your joined hands. His are staring at your joined hands, tears threatening to spill. You feel like you have done something wrong or upset him. But as you open your mouth to ask, he answers for you. “You are real.” You feel shock fill you. Was he upset that you were real or relieved? But as he looks into your eyes, a tear falling from his cheek, his hands tighten slightly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, your question is answered. It’s pure relief. This simply adds to the mystery of this man. You wanted to know everything about him, the good and the bad and you wanted to love him anyway. Love? Isn’t it way too early to be wishing for that? You squeeze his hands lightly as reassurance. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you.” You confess, without realising. His eyes bore into yours, his expression serious and hard to read. He opens his mouth to speak but the train car stops suddenly, causing you to lean with the movement. The train groans, the lights flickering as it pulls up to a desolate platform. You sadly realise this is your stop. Slowly standing you look at him sadly. “This is my stop.” He looks down at the floor, silent. Unmoving. You look between him and the opening groan of the doors. You only had so long together until the next strike of fate.

But suddenly he stands, grabbing his bag and brushing past you, heading to the door. Due to his silence you thought this was it. Tears brimming your eyes you turn to the door ready to run home and never leave it’s 4 walls. But you’re stopped in your tracks when he is standing between the doors, holding his hand out to you. You smile in relief as you take his hand and hop out of the carriage, him spinning you under his arm and starting to run. You laugh freely as you run with him. The feeling childlike and freeing.

Two people ran through the streets of Gotham, bloody and bruised, laughing and smiling. Acting like 2 teenagers in love from the movies. But one is a clown and the other a café employee. You ran past the shop windows lighting up the streets, bumping into the people on the pavements, them shouting curses your way. But you paid them no mind. You felt so free. Someone understood you. Felt you. Freed you. He would glance back at you, a smile painted on his face but contorted with a smile of his own. Genuine happiness.

You were a vibrant contrast to the fire lit city with trash surrounding you. Rioters beginning to form but nothing mattered. Except you and Arthur.

You find yourselves in a park the mood shining bright, illuminating your path, slowing down he faces you. Dropping his bag he clutches your other hand and begins to dance. There is no music. Only the one resounding in his head. He twirls you and releases your hands to dance himself. Slow conducted movements, his arms outstretched, curling with grace. A performance for your eyes only. His footsteps creak and tap lightly against the wet concrete. The street lamp flickering dulling in the night. It’s beautiful. His blood painted face concentrating in calm peace. His movements speak words that cannot be expressed. He’s powerful. He finishes his dance with outstretched arms looking into your eyes into your very soul. It strikes you still. His silhouette in the flickering lamp light, but his features illuminated from the moon. He is beautiful. You applaud lightly and then begin a dance of your own. You’re at peace so you move with your soul. Your arms stretch to your sides, mimicking him, then rise and twirl yourself. Your own steps to the side, your arms rising and falling, stepping towards him to bow yourself slightly then rise to twirl yourself around him. Your movements may not be as graceful and calculated as his, but you’re speaking without words. As you twirl back in front of him, you stretch your arms to the side, spinning endlessly until coming to a stop, facing him. The crisp air cooling your nostrils as you take in breath, a steam releasing from your lips as you release the breath. Your arms stretched to your sides, you lock eyes with him. His gaze piercing yours. You then close your eyes as you bow to him. When you raise yourself again, opening your eyes you see him rushing towards you. In any other circumstance that would be terrifying, but in this case it merely makes you jump slightly. He arrives nose to nose with you, breaths mingling you can feel the light warmth of his on your skin. You dare not break the eye contact with him, you’re under his spell. His eyes dart to your lips then back to yours, silently contemplating whether or not you feel it too. The feeling of belonging. His hands rise rest against your cheeks, thumbs smoothing the skin, giving you light goosebumps as the cold chills you. He brings your mouths together as he kisses you. You can tell he wasn’t experienced but the amount of pure passion and desperation he pours into you, you cannot help but to respond with the same vigour and passion. Years you have been alone, no friends, abusive family kicking you to the streets leaving you to fend for yourself. You have been delt a shitty hand but finally you felt alive. Finally you were not alone. You were noticed. By this kind man who saved your life. The warmth of his lips sliding against yours fills you with pure love and fire. He tastes of stale coffee, cigarettes and blood. You smile against his lips, your arms curling around his shoulders to keep him close. You parted and rested your foreheads against one another. You closed your eyes, a light laughter escaping your lips. You opened your eyes to find Arthur staring at you intensely. You smiled at him, closing your eyes once more to peck his lips and pull back to see his face. His paint and blood smeared on his face. You raise your hand to your lips and wipe a finger across it. Glancing at it, you see greasepaint and blood. A smile of your own painted across your face. You look to him with wonder in your eyes. He stares at you and rubs his nose against yours causing you to giggle. Arthurs smile is genuine and at peace.

Standing in an empty park, the moonlight casting a white glow over the city. The orange lamp slowly dying as two lost souls stand underneath, holding each other, speaking without words.

Unbeknownst to them, a shadow lurks in the darkness beyond them. Watching from afar. A flash of a camera and there is evidence, no faces but a being embracing a clown.

Isn’t It Bliss


End file.
